


the hell fic

by itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualday)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Cursed, Dan and Phil in hell, Gen, Hell, M/M, i wish i could say i regret this but i don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-23 21:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmyusualday/pseuds/itsmyusualphannie
Summary: read this at your own riskapproving story reviews:"cured my depression...100/10" - my beta"dude what the fuck" - my bff"i'm not going to read that" - my sister





	the hell fic

**Author's Note:**

> believe it or not i was fully sober when i wrote this

"Well," said Dan. "We're here." He dropped his guitar to the ground and glanced around. He and Phil had finished walking three entire metres of lumpy ground across Hell's surface and now Denny's stood before them in all its glory.

"Pancakes," said Phil, tearing up as he gazed lovingly at Denny's. The heat in the air around them immediately evaporated the tears.

It was extremely dry here. Dan's lips had never been more chapped.

"Fuck yeah pancakes," Dan agreed. Sometimes he wished Phil could say something other than 'pancakes.' Their method of communication was Dan attempting to find the meaning in his intonations and enunciations of the single word. This time, though, Phil actually meant pancakes.

Dan sighed and picked up the guitar again. It had gained twelve kilograms when he had set it down. It was his most beloved possession here in the Underworld. He did not know how to play the guitar.

A loud wailing sound warbled across their twisted surroundings. Dan and Phil both glanced up first, on instinct, then around. The warped landscape was almost indistinguishable by thick fog, with burnt, twisted trees and jagged rocks every few steps. Dan and Phil had just travelled from the small convenience store about three metres away. It had been a long and arduous journey, though they had no way of telling how long it had taken. Time wasn't real here. 

The warbling sound came again. "Pancakes," Phil said sadly. Dan nodded hastily in agreement and they hurried forward toward the door to Denny's. As they grew closer, the restaurant's sign out front shimmered and changed, revealing a new sign underneath.

"Pancakes?" said Phil in a horrified voice.

The door to the restaurant flew open. A pale, shirtless probably-person hurtled through, then drew up short when he saw Dan and Phil. He threw up one hand, aiming the device in it at them as his face twisted into resignation. He didn't want to be here any more than anyone else in Hell did. 

"Oh, no," said Dan, with dawning realization.

Phil tried to turn and run, but it was too late.

"Hi, welcome to Chili's."

It was later, probably. Dan and Phil trekked across the lumpy, scorched ground, sweating and huffing. This exercise was…hell.

A poodle in a too-large hot dog suit sprinted past them, barking angrily for no apparent reason. Dan belatedly stretched a hand after it. "Noo, come back, I wanna pet," he whined.

"Pancakes," said Phil musingly.

"Huh. It is weird that a dog is in Hell." Dan frowned after the vanishing white, tan, and yellow figure. "Hey! What'd you do to end up down here?"

The dog, rudely, did not answer. It vanished into the mist, becoming a fog dog.

Somewhere on their left, there was a party going on. Dan and Phil were avoiding it. They did not like parties. Hell parties were even worse - all of the best party people had made their way down here at some point or the other. So technically the parties were the best, but to Dan and Phil it made them worse.

They didn't have a choice, though. Hell decided what they were to do. No matter how far they walked, the landscape shifted around them until they were headed straight at the party again.

It was later again. Dan and Phil decided to go to the party now. Dan's legs felt like they were about to fall off from all the walking they had been doing. He didn't want to go through that again.

"We don't have to go _into _the party," Dan tried to reason. "We can just go to the edge and not go inside."

"Pancakes," Phil agreed reluctantly, so they gave up and kept walking the way they'd been going. Soon they reached the party.

"Hello-o-o," sang a woman as they approached.

"Aww, Adele," Dan said mournfully. "How'd you get down here?" 

"It's me," she agreed, still singing. Tear tracks were old on her cheeks.

Phil patted her shoulder sympathetically as they walked past. People danced helplessly in neon colours and blaring lights. Someone was lying prostrate on the ground, their left leg sliding sideways every few seconds and tripping the dancers. They would fall and immediately pick themselves back up, flailing uncontrollably.

Dan and Phil steered clear of the dancers, heading for the food tables. Once caught up in the dance, no one escaped until the party ended. 

The parties rarely ended.

Not that the food tables were much better. They only had chicken nuggets. The only food in Hell was chicken nuggets - the fake, processed kind - unless one could find a Denny's. 

No one ever found a Denny's.

Dan and Phil stopped by the food tables, glancing over them uselessly. "If there were even some _dips_," Dan complained.

There were never any dips.

"Pancakes," Phil said. He picked up a chicken nugget and regarded it for a moment, then silently put it back down.

Phil never ate.

"Well, I think we've been here long enough," Dan declared. Phil nodded firmly. They went past the food tables and set off into the barren Hell again, vainly searching for a way out.

They never would.


End file.
